Coheed&Cambria: In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth
by Stephantom
Summary: An interpretation of the story created by the band Coheed and Cambria, which I now know to be incorrect, in which a family becomes the central target of a galactic war.
1. The Ring in Return

Disclaimer: Ok. Here it is. I've been looking around for something like this all over the place, and there just isn't one it seems. So. I'm going to write my own.You see, Coheed and Cambria is a band, a very good band and their cd's follow a story they've created, and I will be writing each song, filling in blanks where I have to (as the lyrics can sometimes be vague and confusing.).  
  
Claudio Sanchez is a genius, and I take no credit for the story.  
  
And the credit for figuring out what things mean doesn't go entirely to me either. I'd be very confused without the help of the Coheed message board, and the help of my friends, Molly, Tori, and Katie. So. Woo. I apologize if I don't get things right or it doesn't live up to the greatness of Coheed and Cambria. :]  
  
Oh and I'm starting with the second cd just because I understand it better. Someday I will go back and write Second Stage Turbine Blade as well.  
  
__________________________________________________________________  
  
A phone rang, disturbing the taut silence in the air. Then, a pause.  
  
A second ring.  
  
Newo Ikkin stood slowly and crossed the floor with steady, deliberate steps, trying to ignore the trepidation that seized her with each insistent ring. Finally, she reached the phone, and raised the speaker to her mouth cautiously.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
She waited anxiously, dread filling her. It had been so long, so much had happened. Please, please let it be him, she prayed silently as the resounding silence on the other end filled her ears.  
  
And then.  
  
"Hello, Apollo. Where should I begin?" 


	2. Upper Armories of the Third Deep

Jesse stood, arms folded across his chest, staring out the window into the evening. The circles were deep, beneath his eyes. His face was pale and drawn, yet his jaw was set firmly with resolution and his black eyes were alive with a fierce vigilance as they scanned the horizon. They would be coming soon. He could feel it. War was hovering over them all; it lay ahead of them like a great gaping incision preparing to swallow them. The conflicts of the last had never been settled, only pushed aside, and left dormant for years. but the trigger had been pushed, and everything was about to erupt again.  
  
Jesse sighed and turned away from the narrow window, and headed down the stairs to the lowest level of the barrack, ignoring the tangible tension around him. Young, inexperienced militia sat in small clusters, inspecting their armor and weapons just for lack of occupation, their eyes following their leader, wide and expectant.  
  
"Just sit tight boys," he said with a reassuring smile. "We'll have you home pretty soon." Or dead, he thought morbidly to himself.  
  
Some of them offered brave smiles in return, others merely stared. Jesse shook his head and made his way to the corner of the room, his boots tapping lightly on the floorboards, until the tone changed, becoming hollow. He bent down on one knee, and retrieved an army knife from his boot, using it to ply at the floorboard and push it off of a small opening in the floor. He squinted down into the darkness below him, finally able to make out three forms staring back up at him.  
  
"Hey kids," he called down. "Dinner's here."  
  
Josephine, the oldest and tallest of the three, lifted the smaller girl, Maria, up to take the packets of food from their uncle's arms.  
  
"Thanks," said Josephine quietly, placing the packets on the floor.  
  
Jesse nodded. "But it doesn't do much good as furniture, you know."  
  
The teenager sighed and slumped to the ground, not looking at him. "I'm not hungry... I.. I hate this. I hate being locked down here. I hate this entire place. It's so creepy... knowing what happened before."  
  
Maria nodded her agreement, wide brown eyes staring at him silently from behind dark curls. She hadn't spoken since it happened. Mathew sat, curled up at her side, and Jesse thought he could hear him crying softly.  
  
He frowned, and let out a heavy sigh. "I know. I'm sorry," he began, but trailed off.  
  
What could he possibly say to them? Their whole world had been ripped apart in a matter of days. They had watched helplessly as their father changed before their eyes into a raging monster, unable to control his own mind and actions... Could they even understand? Josephine must have understood. And she would have felt guilt... she had been their way in... But she had suffered a thousand times over for her folly. To witness their mother's death at their own father's hands... He could still remember that surreal moment in which Cambria had screamed his name, terrified and desperate. Jesse felt the tears start to well up in the back of his eyes, and blinked, shaking his head of the memories. There was nothing that could be done to change the past. All that was left was these children - his brother's children.  
  
Always he had been the younger, less revered of the two, but he never resented his brother for it. There was just something about Coheed that made everyone love him. Jesse had been content to tag after him, without ever truly following his path. Coheed was the good, honest and smart one. The ideal child. The devoted husband, the loving father. Jesse had always been a bit of a rebel, and when Coheed rose in power, becoming the icon of a cause, Jesse had been there at his side, but in the shadow, making his living prize-fighting under the name Inferno. The two were like night and day, and yet, like two sides of the same coin. He had looked up to his brother as his hero, as the one who would get them out of everything. And now, the great Coheed had fallen, and left him to fight alone.. He couldn't believe his big brother was gone. All of his responsibility fell onto his shoulders now. He would make Coheed proud. For him, he would do anything. For his children, he would kill. He would defend them to the death.  
  
"It's for your own protection. You know that. Just be patient, guys." He smiled gently, sadly, and began pulling the floorboard back into place. "We'll be home soon. I promise," he told them. But he winced inwardly, not knowing if he could keep that promise. He looked at the trio sadly, huddled closely beneath the floor. Would they die here? "I love you," he said quietly. They didn't move, merely remained sitting silently in the dark. He bit his lip and covered the hatch.  
  
He sat back on his haunches, running a tired hand through his dark hair. It wasn't true that these children were the only remaining hope, he reminded himself, thoughtfully. The boy was still out there, somewhere. Did they know that? Would they come here looking for him? Did they even know he existed? Jesse smiled to himself. Yes, the child had been born. The one who bore the gift, the vision.  
  
But even as hope filled him, jealousy followed quickly on its tail even as he tried to ignore it. He couldn't help it. To be the hero was all he asked. To be remembered, and honored in death... Yes, why shouldn't he die here, here where the dead had already fallen, years ago? A heroic death - to be buried here among the heroes of his father's time, to take their secrets to the grave... here. Earth. The silent secret.  
  
He just wished that they could go home, once more... They would, if he had anything to do with it. A noise from his comlink jarred him from his thoughts, and he blinked, accepting the message and setting the comlink on the floor. The image of a young man in uniform appeared.  
  
"Sir! We've detected something on the radar!" Jesse's eyes widened.  
  
"How much time?"  
  
"Ten minutes?" answered the lookout skeptically. A cold wave crept over Jesse's skin as this sunk in.  
  
"Right," he answered sternly. "Tell everyone to get into their positions. Get the technicians working on securing the hatch; tell them to use a fucking jackhammer if they have to, as long as it can't be opened. That's the reason we're here." He took a breath and cried, "Everyone else, to your battlestations!"  
  
The upper armories burst into movement at his command, and Jesse walked grimly to his post, leaning the end of his gun over the edge of the opening in the wall. He glanced at his watch. Seven. He stared across the terrestrial landscape, adrenaline flooding into his veins. Others lined the wall beside him, struggling to swallow their fear.  
  
Silence.  
  
Minutes ticked by but Jesse did not look down at his watch, keeping his eyes trained on the horizon. Slowly, a dark form began to appear in the distance. He squinted as the shape grew larger. Others crept into view at its side. Eerily the dark masses marched closer.  
  
Closer.  
  
And closer.  
  
He could hear their battle-cries now. He could make out the individual forms running in a vast line, brandishing their weapons fiercely.  
  
Jesse grinned, thriving on the tension, the pure electricity in the air. This was it. It was starting. And he was ready. 


	3. Cuts Marked in the March of Men

Alright, here it is. Cuts Marked. I'll probably have to go back and fix it up some more – and I know I need to go back and work on In Keeping Secrets some more (or Upper Armories as I chose to call it, which is the original name of the song). For one thing, I'm thinking that maybe the character of Chase should be introduced earlier, and that maybe the line "waiting for your to say I love you too" refers to her, as well as "For you my love, I would kill him." Sounds like unrequited love to me, which makes me love Jesse even more. Anyway, here it is. _________________________________________________________________  
  
The army marched toward them swiftly, and neared shooting range. Jesse raised one arm, the other clutching his gun, his head bowed low, watching them approach through the scope of his gun. "Ready on my mark!" he shouted to the others.  
  
The enemy troops broke against the walls of the fort like a great wave against rocks. Jesse brought his hand down to his side sharply. Shot after shot rained down upon the opposing fighters, but they did not slow. The enemy was the greater in number and equipment, and was well aware of the fact. Coheed's assassination had had a ripple-affect catalyzing the movement which had already started into something that could not be stopped. But in their fury, they would not accept this, and stormed together, bent on spilling blood and killing the unstoppable. The family of Coheed and Cambria was in that building, and they would find and destroy them.  
  
Bullets filled the air, rushing past each other in opposite directions, showering death on both sides. Jesse wondered in the back of his mind if he would ever hear again, as the static sound of automatics firing consumed the area. Suddenly, a new sound managed to just barely break above the noise into his consciousness, and he turned in time to see the man beside him arch in pain, and clutch at his neck which was oozing blood, then crumple forward to the ground. Jesse swallowed with difficulty and continued firing below in a daze.  
  
He lost track of time as the fighting went on. It seemed to him that hours had passed. All thoughts outside of the battle vanished; it seemed to Jesse that he had always existed in this exhilarating and numbing world of grenades and snipers.  
  
A loud roaring came as planes came swooping into view, and continued over the roof of the fort. The floor shook beneath Jesse as part of the structure was blown apart and the crowd came pouring in. He picked himself up off the ground painfully, and stood, inspecting the fallen soldiers around him. A boy of about seventeen years lay propped slightly against the wall, eyes closed, his blonde hair clotted with blood. Jesse grimaced and continued searching the room.  
  
He crept down the stairs to the hallway, with half his original unit following cautiously at his back, guns held out in front of them. He froze in mid-step and held his hand up behind him to warn the others as the sound of running footsteps echoed up the stairwell. He pressed himself against the edge of the wall, gesturing for his men to do the same at the other side of the doorway, and held his breath. A group of about a dozen came bursting through the door. They had barely entered the corridor when several gunshots cracked behind them, and every one of them fell to the floor on impact.  
  
The resounding silence that followed the roaring of their guns was stifling. Jesse's comrades stared at the bloody pile they had created for a long moment, in shock. Little rivers of blood were forming on the linoleum floor. Jesse closed his eyes and turned away from the carnage. I'll make peace when this is done, he told himself silently.  
  
"Come on," he said with forced strength. "They need us below."  
  
The others nodded grimly and followed him down the stairs and to the backroom where the children were hidden. They met with more soldiers in the hallway, and both parties immediately jumped at the sight of the other and fired, flinging themselves behind crates, doorframes and rubble for cover. Jesse cried out as a bullet grazed his left shoulder and bit down hard on his lip, retaliating with vigor. Eventually, all but two of the opposing band had been killed, and the survivors ran from the scene. Half-hearted shots followed them, bringing one to the ground. The skirmish left Jesse with six less men, and the fear of their location being discovered.  
  
The sight that met them as they came at last to the safe-room was a sad one; bodies fouled the air, strewn across the ground. Jesse flinched back into the shadows, gesturing for his men to do the same and watching cautiously as a voice from around the corner met their ears.  
  
"There were only these three in there, sir."  
  
"I can see that, but what I am asking is if any evidence of a fourth has been found," answered another, sounding as if it came through clenched teeth.  
  
Jesse paled. Was that it then? Was it all over? Had they found the children – had they killed them?? He crept forward to hear more, his heart in his throat, and crouched low behind a pile of rubble.  
  
"No, sir, nothing has been found." A pause followed and there was some mumbling that Jesse could not make out. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying vainly to deny what he had heard--what he was hearing. All hope was lost. Was God's work then, to have them fail? Slowly he became aware of the conferring enemies near him again. "We don't even know for sure that he exists!" the first was saying.  
  
"Don't give me that--" the man's infuriated shout stopped mid-sentence, and he paused, receiving a message on his comlink.  
  
Jesse's eyes widened as he realized that this could very well be the runaway soldier they had encountered earlier, alerting the commander of their presence. This could not happen this way. He would never stop fighting, even in the face of defeat. He threw a glance back to his troops behind him for one meaningful moment, then stood upright and ran at the gathered enemies, his gun held in front of him, his men at his back, storming as one in a desperate last stand.  
  
Surprise was on their side and the opposition was forced to retreat through the back door in a panic as men among them fell. Jesse pressed on, following closely, a madness born of desperation in his eyes, his men following his lead with ardor. The cool night air met his damp skin as he leapt through the door and into the dimly lit streets, letting out a triumphant laugh. He continued his advance doggedly, and the streets slowly began to fill with new flesh bound to bone, until he caught sight of enemy reinforcements rushing around the corner. His men reluctantly retreated to one side of the street, taking shelter in the remains of a building and continuing their attack through openings in the wall.  
  
Jesse was breathing heavily and trying not to let himself realize that they could not win this fight when yet another enemy squad appeared at the end of the street. He paused and squinted at this group as he noticed that they were not running to join in the fight. They seemed to be herding prisoners; he hadn't realized they were even taking prisoners. His breath caught as he looked at the group more closely. A young woman with dark brown eyes and wispy chestnut hair pulled back into a disheveled pony-tail was walking slowly near the front of the group, her hands folded behind her head, and a gun resting at the ready between her shoulder blades.  
  
Chase. They had Chase.  
  
The world seemed to stop as Jesse stared in disbelieving horror at the woman he had loved in his dreams. How could they have taken her? Everything was all wrong, terribly wrong. This was a horrible, twisted nightmare. They had found and killed the children, and now they had Chase as well, and they could not win this battle, or this war. It felt like the whole world was crumbling all around Jesse and he fought in vain to hold it up. He breathed in choking gasps and closed his eyes. What did he have left to hold onto? What reason did he have left to hope, to live? How could he keep living in this doomed world without her by his side, now when he needed her more than ever?  
  
He swallowed painfully and fumbled about for his comlink, hoping to contact the rest of his army and call someone to his aid, but as he turned the dial, he was met only with static.  
  
"Damnit!" he shouted through clenched teeth, smashing it on the window pane in front of him.  
  
I won't let them have her. They can take me instead.  
  
He set his jaw, his face a pale, stoic mask, and raised his gun high into the air for a long moment until the crossfire slowed and stopped. Then he stood very slowly, his arms raised in the air. A man next to him grabbed his arm and hissed, "What are you doing?" but he jerked his arm away and answered steadily, "Trust me. I know what I'm doing." The others looked up at him in bewilderment but he did not look back at them.  
  
"What's this about? Do you surrender?" a captain across the street shouted.  
  
"I have a proposition to make," Jesse called back. He paused.  
  
"Well, let's hear it," said the man, rising to his feet.  
  
Jesse glanced at the group of hostages. "You release the prisoners... and let our army go unharmed, and in exchange I'll hand myself over to your authorities."  
  
The man stared back at Jesse blankly. "And why would we want you?"  
  
Jesse wasn't looking at him. His eyes were locked with Chase's and a heavy sadness seemed to radiate from his body. "Coheed was my brother," he said slowly. The man across the way blinked as he took in that fact, then turned as a hushed discussion began. Chase bit her lips as tears welled up in her eyes and she shook her head, still holding his distressingly calm gaze. His eyes were soft and he seemed to be trying to reassure her wordlessly.  
  
A thought came to him, and he removed his watch from his wrist and regarded it silently for a moment before holding it out to a man beside him. The young man glanced at the watch, then up at Jesse questioningly.  
  
"I want you to give this to Chase when you can. They'll let them go, and I want you to find her and give it to her for me."  
  
The boy furrowed his brow in dismay, obviously understanding that Jesse didn't intend to live through this. He opened his mouth as if to protest, but seeing the look in his captain's eyes, he closed it and just nodded sadly.  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
Jesse smiled roguishly for the kid's sake and faced the street again, letting out a long, tense breath.  
  
"What's your decision?" he shouted.  
  
The officers on the other side stood and studied him carefully once more, then nodded to each other.  
  
"It's a deal," said one of them. "Drop your weapons and walk into the open, and then we'll send the prisoners over."  
  
Jesse nodded tersely and swallowed, doing as they asked. His weapons fell to the ground with a dull clatter and he stepped slowly in the street.  
  
"Now let them go," he said firmly.  
  
The word was given, and the small handful of captives were released and stumbled over to shelter. Chase stared at him tearfully for a moment as she passed, then rushed to him and threw her arms around his neck. Shouts of protest and alarm were issued from across the street, but they quieted as Jesse made no move to escape, but simply stood there passively, eyes closed. She pulled back after a moment and walked away from him quickly.  
  
Jesse opened his eyes slowly as the enemy troops approached and let his arms be handcuffed, feeling weary and numb all over. 


End file.
